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Updated: May 19, 2025
But he saw a young man of short stature, with a freckled face and close-cropped, curly red hair, come into the corridor by another entrance; he saw Isaac D. Worthington draw him aside and speak to him, and he saw the young man coming towards them. "How do you do, Miss Wetherell?" cried the young man joyously, while still ten feet away, "I'm awfully glad to see you, upon my word; I am.
Those who are familiar with that delightful French song which treats of the leave-taking of one Monsieur Dumollet will appreciate, perhaps, the attentions which were showered upon William Wetherell and Cynthia upon their departure for the capital next morning. Although Mr.
The members were scattered far and wide through the seats, like an army in open order, listening in silence to the droning voice of the clerk. Moths burned in the gas flames, and June bugs hummed in at the high windows and tilted against the walls. Then Mr. Duncan's finger nails whitened as his thin hands clutched the rail, and a sense of a pending event was upon Wetherell.
"W-want the consolidation don't you? Want it bad don't you?" Mr. Worthington did, not answer. Jethro stood over him now, looking down at him from the other side of the narrow table. "Know Cynthy Wetherell?" he said. Then Isaac Worthington understood that his premonitions had been real. The pound of flesh was to be demanded, but strangely enough, he did not yet comprehend the nature of it.
I have always thought of Cynthia Ware as a spirit." Jethro turned at the words, and came and stood looking over Wetherell's shoulder at the pictures of mother and daughter. In the rosewood box was a brooch and a gold ring Cynthia Ware's wedding ring and two small slips of yellow paper. William Wetherell opened one of these, disclosing a little braid of brown hair.
"It's too bad, I swan it is, but Lem Hallowell rode over to Harwich last night and indicted the town for that piece of road by the Four Corners. Took Will Wetherell along with him." "D-don't say so!" said Jethro. "I callate he done it," responded Sam, pulling a long face. "The court'll hev to send an agent to do the job, and I guess you'll hev to foot the bill, Jethro."
By feeling and instinct he found the front door, and knocked. There was a movement inside, and then Mazie Wetherell asked softly: "Who's there?" "I have brought the book." The bolt was withdrawn, and in the hall, scarcely lighted by the shaded lamp in the room beyond, stood the girl, in a loose gray gown, with braided shining hair a shadowy being, half-merged into the shadows.
And, most remarkable of all to the storekeeper, not a man of the three hundred, however obscure, could rise that the Speaker did not instantly call him by name. William Wetherell was occupied by such reflections as these when suddenly there fell a hush through the House.
But we shall come to that later. Supper first, in a great pillared dining room filled with notables, if we only had the key. Jethro sits silent at the head of the table eating his crackers and milk, with Cynthia on his left and William Wetherell on his right.
"Well, of all people, Cynthia Wetherell!" he cried; "didn't you hear me calling after you?" "Yes," said Cynthia. "Why didn't you stop?" "I didn't want to," said Cynthia, glancing at the distant group on the porch, who were watching them. Suddenly she turned to him defiantly. "I didn't know you were in that house, or in the capital," she said.
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